


Honeyed words; evil intent

by KoreArabin



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Chastity Device, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Public Nudity, Punishment, Sex Toys, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 15:53:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14980481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoreArabin/pseuds/KoreArabin
Summary: Crozier smiles."No matter. The sodomite will be punished appropriately."





	1. Chapter 1

The tiny cabin is dark, but warm from the heat generated in the bowels of the ship.  Probably just as well for Caulker's Mate Cornelius Hickey, who lies on his side, shackled to a solid iron ring set into the stout timber floorboards. Hickey is naked except for his restraints — solid iron manacles locked tight around his wrists and ankles.


	2. Chapter 2

Crozier slams his hand down violently on the table top.

“Enough! I am sick and tired of your dirtiness, and your relentlessly filthy and un-Christian-like behaviour, Mr Hickey! The flagrant flaunting of your sodomitical appetites depresses and demoralises even the best of our men, and I will no longer tolerate it. Do you hear me? _I – will – no – longer – have – it._ "

Hickey squints up at the Captain, his ferret face twisted into its perennially shameless smirk.

“I am as God made me, Captain. A man cannot help the nature he has been given by the Almighty now, can he? Surely Mr Irving there, with all his Bible learning, can confirm that us men are all made in the Almighty’s image?”

Now it is Irving’s turn to lose his temper. White with anger, he leaps forward, ready to grab the smaller Caulker’s Mate by the scruff of his neck and throttle him.

“How dare you? How _dare_ you? To twist the words of the Lord to excuse your own sordid, unnatural, disgusting actions? I see now that you are not just the devious seducer described to me by the victim you cajoled into your salaciousness; you are an incitement to evil!"

Lieutenant Little restrains Irving. Crozier smiles, batting away their assistance with the wave of a hand.

"No matter. The sodomite will be punished appropriately."

Hickey is manhandled away to be shackled in close confinement whilst the officers deliberate.


	3. Chapter 3

Hickey is momentarily blinded when the cabin door is opened abruptly and a lantern thrust into his face.

“Come on, Mr Hickey, let’s get you up.”

The shackle chaining him to the floor is unlocked, and Hickey is hauled, unceremoniously, to his feet, then half-dragged and half-carried back to Crozier’s quarters. He immediately sees the Captain, standing off to the side, with Fitzjames, Irving and Little, but his attention is torn away from ascertaining who else is present by the table in the centre of the cabin. 

The table has had thick leather straps attached to each corner, and another to the centre of the head of the table. A stout wooden pole has been placed at each end of the table, and Mr Honey is tinkering away, affixing gleaming metal boxes to each of the poles, at roughly the same height as the table top.

Hickey’s instinctive reaction is to break free and try to get away from whatever punishment has been dreamed up for him, but he is held fast by bigger, stronger men, and his struggles are in vain.

“If he keeps struggling, you have my permission to strike him,” growls Crozier. 

Not wanting to be hit, Hickey stops struggling, but only to the point that he is lifted up on to the table, and his limbs spread out so that they can be strapped to its edges. And then he is pinioned, _like a butterfly, he thinks_ , some boyhood vague, deep-buried remembrance of a travelling naturalist's show fluttering just outside his powers of conscious recall.

He is spread, face up, _helpless_ , all the most private, secret parts of him, as a man, laid open to the gaze of the assembled officers.

Perhaps it is worst when Crozier, the Captain he thought he'd beguiled when he was offered the drink, stands before him, looking down between his splayed thighs.

"Dr Goodsir. You have the apparatus?"

Goodsir, previously unnoticed by Hickey, steps forward, his habitual gentle, benevolent gaze hardening as he draws a polished, shiny piece of tubing from his pocket.

"I have it here, Captain, as discussed." Hickey hisses in apprehension as Goodsir takes his not-quite-flaccid-but-hardening-in-the-circumstances-because-he-is-a-dirty-little-bastard-and-forced-nudity-and-voyerism (with him as the subject, natch)-are-turning-him-on penis, and slides the metal casing up and over it. 

There is a sudden *click*, accompanied by a feeling of constriction around the base of his cock, and then Hickey suddenly knows, with sickening clarity, that he is well and truly and _utterly_ fucked.


	4. Chapter 4

Hickey swallows nervously, then flinches, violently, as Dr Goodsir flicks his fingertip against the cold metal tube constricting his cock. 

For once in his life, Cornelius Hickey has nothing to say. That the gentle, kind, _weak and wishy-washy, to Hickey's mind, far too nice for his own good_ , Dr Goodsir should be participating in this, this - whatever it is - stuns the normally glibly loquacious Petty Officer into silence.

Goodsir's gaze leaves Hickey's imprisoned cock, and focuses up and over his head, to where Hickey can hear yet more tinkering from Mr Honey. Hickey desperately tries to look behind him, arching his back and straining his neck, but to no avail. Then, Irving is standing over him, twisting his fist in Hickey's thick carrot-coloured hair, and pulling his head back violently.

Hickey yelps, strands of his hair ripped out as Irving forces his head back, until the back of his skull is pressed against the table edge, and Hickey is looking from a completely upside-down perspective at the metal box affixed to the wooden pole behind his head.

"Time to open wide, Hickey!"

The tip of a thick, long, phallus-shaped length, of what appears to Hickey to be a constable's stout billy club, is pressed against his lips. Hickey immediately clamps his jaw shut, grinding his teeth against any prospect of penetration.

The implement is withdrawn, as the onlookers confer quietly amongst themselves. Hickey takes his chance.

"Dr Goodsir! Doctor! I know you to be a good man, Sir, and one who would not willingly involve himself in such a dreadful circumstance as this. Please, Sir, help me. I am a lowly mate, and no match for the machinations of these infernal officers!"

Goodsir leans down over him, nodding to Irving to maintain his hold on Hickey's hair, and smiles his habitual pacific, self-deprecating smile. He speaks quietly and soothingly to the prone Hickey, as if addressing a stubborn and recalcitrant child.

"You are correct, Mr Hickey. I strive to be, and I hope that I am, a _good man_. This is why I am obliged to - no - I _must_ involve myself in this punishment, in the heartfelt desire that you, as a result, shall be cured of this wickedness."

Goodsir begins to massage Hickey's throat, as Irving tugs yet more cruelly on his hair, and Little places his hand over Hickey's long nose and pinches his nostrils shut.

As soon as Cornelius Hickey gasps for breath, the phallus is forced into his mouth, and its other end affixed tightly to the apparatus behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

Hickey hyperventilates around the enormous length in his mouth; it is not quite long enough to trigger his gag reflex, but it is thick and rigid and his jaws and lips are spread obscenely widely around it. Then there is the most delicate touch of a finger at his arsehole, and Hickey struggles wildly. Dr Goodsir's gentle voice again appears to be trying to soothe him.

"Keep still, Mr Hickey. You are going to be lubricated; it will be required, you see, when the apparatus begins to work. But you will not be worked _open_ \- it would perhaps be antithetical to the purpose of this exercise to give you too much compassion, and too much easing in to your predicament for that to be appropriate."

He'll give Goodsir his dues - the man forces so much grease up his arse that Hickey reckons he'll be shitting floaters for the forseeable future. It's not as if Hickey hasn't been fucked before - his thick locks, boyish good looks, and conspiratorial grin have lured partners and punters alike, but he has always preferred to be the one doing the fucking, rather than the one being fucked.

When Goodsir - _he assumes that it is the good Doctor, but he cannot see who it is_ \- begins to work what feels like the end of another billy club into his arse, Hickey moans around the monster stretching his jaw. 

He is drooling, he realises, saliva pooling then dripping helplessly down through his hair and the back of his neck, soaking wet and cold by the time it begins to trickle down to the boards of the wooden deck below. He tries desperately to clench down, fighting against the intrusion as best he can, but Goodsir again distracts him by squeezing his swollen testicles, diverting his attention just enough to force the dildo past the tight rim of his anus. 

Hickey moans again, around his cock gag, biting back a shout of pain as the dildo is worked inexorably into his arse. It pushes further and further in, and Hickey is not stretched enough to take it, so his muscles clench painfully around it. It feels unbelievably solid and huge inside him and, even worse, it is long enough to brush against his prostrate. Hickey lies shuddering on the table, shivering from the shock of penetration, arousal welling deep in his stomach.

And then the dildo begins to move.


	6. Chapter 6

He's alone. It takes him some time to realise this, distracted as he is by the stretch of his jaw and the thick length beginning to pump into his arse. He is alone. 

Alone. 

If there is one thing that Hickey cannot bear, it is being ignored - he lives not to be the centre of attention; that would be far too great a risk for a man like him. His power lies in his ability to blend into his surroundings, and to quietly and carefully and ruthlessly use his intelligence, and his intuitiveness, and his wiles to first beguile, and then to control. 

Hickey will always be the slightly off-centre of attention - whether it be the absolute focus of those crewmates so easily (Manson) or not so easily (Tozer - but you're interested, aren't you, Solomon, for all you keep your distance), he discreetly but relentlessly subborns to his will, or the brief coruscation of interest afforded by the likes of Crozier.

So, alone, to the mechanical whirr of the piston, Hickey begins to count the thrusts; twenty so far, but annoying rather than arousing, a constant in out, in out, which stretches the rim of his arse and grazes the same spot inside him, over again, but without getting anywhere near his prostate. He wonders whether old soak Crozier, thwarted in his hopes for promotion and thwarted in his hopes for marriage (so Hickey has heard) has left him like this on purpose, simply to keep him irritable and frustrated. 

The repeated penetration, whilst he's tied down helpless is, of course, humiliating but at least it isn't quite the stark sexual torture Hickey had at first envisioned when he saw the apparatus set up in the great cabin and so he settles himself down to ride it out.

But then, just as he has become accustomed to the slow, monotomous movement of the phallus inside him, there is a loud click from the metal box attached to it, and the pace abruptly increases. The dildo begins to pound violently into him, far deeper than previously. If it were not for the thick leather restaints holding him firmly in place, Hickey would be pushed backwards up the table by the force of thrusts. As it is, he gurgles and chokes on the dildo stretching his throat as he is jostled repeatedly by the frenzied pounding inside him.

Hickey's cock is untouched in its metal tube, lolling slightly to the left towards his thigh, yet slowly and inexorably it’s provoked into arousal, swelling with blood. He groans around the phallus gag in increasing discomfort as the cock restraint ruthlessly constricts his burgeoning erection. He moans loudly, pulling hard against his restraints, trying to distract himself from the growing pain of the chastity belt.


End file.
